


I...I got bored

by R3ads2MuchDouj1n



Series: White briefs....brief here meaning short, whcih is what these are. [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Masturbation, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Small Penis, Sorry Not Sorry, cannon? I don't know her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 09:40:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20113027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R3ads2MuchDouj1n/pseuds/R3ads2MuchDouj1n
Summary: I have not seen any of the Spider man movies but I need to get some thirst out....So, this is happening.God what am I doing with my life?





	I...I got bored

Peter arched back on to the comforter, his tired body stretched out across the bed. One hand went trailing through his tussled sweaty hair, the other trailed down his shirt, he flipped the top button of his jeans open with his thumb and then ran his thumb down to the satisfying grind of his zipper coming undone. He looked down at the white briefs as they poked out from the threadbare jeans, the stitching stretched, but only slightly by a hardening bump underneath them. With one hand still behind his head, he reached down, feeling the brush of his pubes against his palm, smelling, even this early on, the musky smell that came from running around all day with a few dozen layers on. His hand was almost on the joystick when he remembered something: the house was empty, the only person who would come in at a time like this was out on a date with the only other person who would burst in at a time like this. 

Retracting a hand from behind his head he leapt to his feet, he struggled, suddenly seized with a nervous rush of energy to rip the hoodie off of his body, it stretched out, turned out it's sleeves and was flung into a corner, soon to be joined by the cotton T-shirt he similarly squirmed out of, followed there after by the jeans he kicked off, but not the briefs, nor the socks. He went rummaging through the room, looking for some "material" he then remembered that he didn't have any "material", flying across the city didn't leave a lot of time for secretly sneaking out to a convenience store and sliding the cashier an extra fifty so he didn't look twice at your ID,_ I mean I assume that's what they do_, he thought, _wait no, just find something stimulating!...Stimulating God what kind of nineteen year old am I?_

His thoughts ran in this vein until he looked at his door and noticed the large mirror hanging from it, seeing his reflection, he felt a bit sheepish and fought the urge to cover himself, he looked so odd, his pale, toned body made no less pale by the white briefs that clung to his body, concealing not at all the tiny little bump sticking maybe three inches straight out, though he did notice that as he looked in the mirror, the very tip of that little bump dampened under the cloth. He looked again at the mirror, and noticed on his desk was a...ahem...conveniently placed bottle of Aveeno, _I guess Vaseline would be more typical...don't analyze!_ He thought as he reached one arm back and grabbed the cold plastic bottle, squirting a generous amount of it onto his right hand he took a deep breath, a bubble of nervous energy building in his chest and hooking his left thumb into the JOE of his brief's waistband, slid them down his legs where they crumpled at his feet, a little white pile of fabric and elastic pooled around his ankles.

Then he looked back up, seeing himself again in the mirror, the light line of dark hair that traced from his navel ended in a dark bush of curling brown wires, at the center of which was a ridiculous looking little nub, which was beginning to leak. opening and closing his right hand he made the tightest possible fist and plunged his aching member inside. The hot, wet slipping and sliding in and out consumed him as he pumped in little short jags that got rougher and had less Aveeno with each pump, making it rougher, coarser and then he felt the small bubble in his chest burst at the same time that he felt his hips buck wildly and his eyes filled with stars.

He opened his eyes and looked at the mirror, he was still there, but now he was behind a giant film of sticky white fluid.

_Well, that'll be easy to clean_, he thought as he heard a pair of keys jingle in the door, the front door, and he threw his sweater from where it lay in the corner onto the reflective glass. 

But he didn't hear the door open, he did however hear some confused shouting and realized that his senile old neighbor had just mistaken their apartment for his again...and that he, Peter, had just ruined a perfectly good sweater.

_Nice_.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm probably going to Hell for this...
> 
> ...well this and everything else.


End file.
